


With Me, Settle Down

by orphan_account



Category: EXO (Band), SHINee, SuperM (Korea Band)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Canon Compliant, First Time, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Like, Light Angst, M/M, Questioning, This is Just a Mess of Tropes, with some very small plot and some porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-08 06:40:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21231449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "'There’s still fifteen minutes until places,' Jongin blurts, cutting off whatever Taemin meant to say. 'I can—if you want to—' He’s processing a lot right now. He’s just learned that Taemin is, well, something that includes sucking dick, and apparentlyalsosucking Byun Baekhyun’s dick against a fitting room door, and Jongin isn’t an innocent by any stretch of the word but he also doesn’t know where Baekhyun’sbeenand Taemin looks so—"Taemin accidentally catapults Jongin into the realm of his own latent bisexuality. Baekhyun is there, too.





	With Me, Settle Down

**Author's Note:**

> I could have made this so much angstier. Alas and alack. Maybe one day I’ll write Taeyong vs. Taemin’s Catholic Guilt. 
> 
> I'm also woefully out of practice, and I hope this lives up to my *coughs* standards for content.

The lights are harsh, fluorescent and unflattering. If this situation were ideal in any way, Jongin's first, impulsive thought flops ungracefully from his mind, the lighting would be dim. Sexy. Stage lighting, sharpening all the best angles.

Instead, no, it's the same harsh fluorescent light of every dressing room, a mixture of cool-toned from the ceiling and warm from the vanity bulbs, altogether a transient space. Transformative. Jongin's knees go suddenly wobbly. He turns at the waist, a hurried motion, to flip the bolt on the door that's just slammed shut behind him. 

He fumbles a bit, which he thinks is justified. His hand flaps uselessly for a moment, his eyes locked with Byun Baekhyun's. So many things are happening at once. One of Baekhyun's eyebrows quirks up as if to ask Jongin what, exactly, he means to _ do _ about this, so Jongin redoubles his efforts and succeeds in locking the door.

As Taemin (Lee Taemin, Jongin's best friend, Jongin's _ best friend _ ) gets valiantly to his knees from where he'd thrown himself away from Baekhyun, onto the floor, as the door opened, Jongin tries to find words. Any words at all, with the balance of probability weighing in favor of _ inept but humorous _ . What Jongin _ actually _ does is make a few broken vowel sounds.

"Jonginnie," Taemin begins to say, in a placating tone that Jongin doesn't recognize. There's no trace of a smile behind it, and Taemin's voice is rough (he's been _ reckless_, like Jongin hadn't come to find out what was holding them up from dress rehearsal, and what if it hadn't been Jongin?). Baekhyun, meanwhile, is putting himself to rights, cursorily tucking away his dick (his _ entire dick _ that Jongin had just witnessed Lee Taemin, his best friend, getting his mouth fucked _ vigorously _ on before dress, and Taemin wants to say something and all Jongin can do is make vowel sounds—)

"There's still fifteen minutes until places," Jongin blurts, cutting off whatever Taemin meant to say. "I can—if you want to—” He's processing a lot right now. He's just learned that Taemin is, well, something that includes sucking dick, and apparently _ also _ sucking Byun Baekhyun's dick against a fitting room door, and Jongin isn't an innocent by any stretch of the word but he also doesn't know where Baekhyun's _ been _ and Taemin looks so—

Taemin gets to his feet and Baekhyun reaches up, brushing Taemin's unmistakable sex hair into place as he says conversationally, "Jonginnie isn't going to _ tell _ anyone, are you, Jonginnie."

"We don't have friends," Jongin says, and Taemin says at the same time, of _ course_, and they look at each other and Jongin resists the hysterical giggle that rises in his throat. Taemin's raw lips pull into a wide grin and he adds, "Wonshik."

"Wonshik," Jongin parrots heavily. "But N-hyung."

"Stop doing that thing," Baekhyun whines, immediately reverting back to the Baekhyun Jongin knows, the Baekhyun Jongin wants to strangle at least twice a day. 

(Not the Baekhyun who looked so domineering and wrecked with Taemin's mouth on his cock. Jongin reconciles himself to the knowledge that his retinas will never be the same.)

"What thing?" Taemin asks, mock-innocent, rifling around in a vanity drawer until he locates a tube of chapstick. He slathers some on his lips unceremoniously and then lobs the tube at Baekhyun.

Baekhyun fumbles as he snatches the chapstick out of the air. "That thing where you have your own language, it's weird and dorky and not at all considerate of your beloved—"

"Hyung, it's time to be silent, I am _ begging _ you," Jongin pleads, and Baekhyun cuts a look at Taemin, who raises his eyebrows, presses his now-not-chapped lips into a little smile, and shrugs. "There is so much...so much I don't need to know." Jongin turns to leave, keenly aware that he's been wringing his hands for the last fifteen seconds. 

"Jonginnie," Taemin starts again, and again, Jongin interrupts. 

"Ten minutes, probably. Until places. Taeminnie, your eyes are...smeared. I'll tell the others you're getting touched up." He flips the bolt and slips out the door, catching his shoulder awkwardly on the frame as giddy shock gives way to cold confusion.

***

Jongin lies in his AirBnb bed, curled around an English book he's half reading, his brain in a constant loop of _ Baekhyun’s face hands first in Taemin’s hair slick noise "hyung." _He'd shooed Baekhyun out of their shared room, citing a bone-deep need for a shower, as soon as they got home. The shower was an act of submission to the forced normality that comes with near-constant surveillance. Baekhyun's distant yells now place him with Yukhei and Taeyong, losing at his game du jour.

There's a knock on the door and Jongin knows it's Taemin. Obviously, it's Taemin, because Taemin is well aware of Jongin's fatal character flaw of needing to _ talk _ about things. It's wrong, though, because Taemin doesn't knock on Jongin's door, since probably ever.

"Yeah," Jongin calls by way of acquiescence, and the door swings open to admit Taemin, who gives the room a cursory scan for any recording lights. (The cameras are off, their supposed lights-out filmed an hour ago.) Taemin looks from Baekhyun's empty, unmade bed to Jongin and back. 

The lighting here is better, Jongin thinks. Lamplight from Baekhyun's side of the room does justice to the cut of Taemin's jaw, the planes and angles of his face and the glint of a single set of hoop earrings. He tosses his book down on his nightstand and gestures widely to his own bed. 

"Jonginnie," Taemin sighs, but he also throws himself onto Jongin's bed at the same time, so it leaves him in a whoosh of syllables. Jongin finds Taemin's hand as Taemin squirms up beside him, all lanky limbs and pointy joints clad in comfy pajamas. "Jonginnie, Jongin_nie _."

"Taemin_nie_," Jongin responds in a similarly pleading tone. "Can we not...can we not?"

Taemin snorts, squeezing Jongin's hand in his own. "You have to talk, or you'll get all prickly. Then the fans see you're sitting three centimeters farther away from me than usual, and then they tweet that we've fallen out. Have we fallen out, Jonginnie?"

Jongin slides his fingers between Taemin's one by one, tan skin against pale. "No," he murmurs. "I just didn't know how to react. I still don't."

"You can be mad," Taemin allows, and Jongin rolls his eyes. 

"I'm not mad. I don't know what I am." Baekhyun's pale pink hair, mussed against a closed door, flashes through his mind. "Confused," Jongin decides. "You wouldn't go public, but I don't know why you wouldn't tell us you're dating Baekhyun." _ Tell me_, Jongin doesn't say. It comes with the territory.

He's not expecting the sudden peal of Taemin's laughter. "Dating Baekhyun?" He frees his hand from Jongin's and clutches at the muscle of Jongin's thigh, kneading there gently. "Jonginnie, you know better than anyone _ I _ know not to mistake fucking for dating. Dispatch just won't tell on _ me _." 

"Hey," Jongin warns, but there's no heat behind it. He presses his leg into Taemin's hand and Taemin's hand skates higher. A friendly touch, still, but a bit riskier. "I'm worried for you."

"You're not," Taemin says matter-of-factly. "You're confused and maybe envious, but you're not worried for me."

_ Envious_, isn't that the proposition. Jongin picks apart the anxious resignation that has emerged from his confusion, finds a part of himself that questions Taemin's taste in convenient dick and turns it over and over in his mind. The reverse of _ Why Baekhyun? _ is _ Why not Baekhyun?, _and Jongin finds he doesn't have an answer to that beyond Taemin's fingertips on his inner thigh and their sides pressed together. 

"I don't know why you wouldn't tell me," Jongin musters finally, turning his head to meet Taemin's eyes. "I don't know why…"

"Baekhyun is easy," Taemin murmurs, and their faces are close, so close, so easy for Jongin to press his forehead to Taemin's and drop his eyes closed. "He makes you feel important, Jonginnie. For fifteen minutes, for an hour, you're the most important person in the world." Jongin feels Taemin's words fan against his chin. 

"You are important," Jongin answers simply, Taemin's chin tilts up and their lips meet, brushing and parting. Jongin hears Taemin's breath come in quiet hitches, matching Jongin's. If he touched Taemin's chest, their hearts would beat identically too-fast. "You're my best friend." 

Jongin opens his eyes to see Taemin's closed. Taemin pulls back, only making eye contact once he's put a nearly-appropriate distance between them. "You're _ my _ best friend, Jonginnie," Taemin says firmly, swinging his legs off the side of the bed and standing, smoothing his pajamas. Jongin sees the idol falling into place, feels an immediate sensation of _ wrong. _He does not act on it, because he does not know how.

"Thank you for talking to me." Taemin's voice and his smile are relieved. Jongin reels as Taemin's hand falls on his shoulder. "Jonginnie. I'll see you in the morning."

With that, Taemin is gone.

***

The screams from the sitting room dull down to inside voices, and then to silence as Baekhyun dismisses everyone to bed. Early schedules. Jongin has been attempting, a renewed effort but still not valiant, to focus on the words in his English book since Taemin left, looking perfect and put together, a stark contrast to the wreck he's made of Jongin's worldview. He reads, "_I am working very hard on improving my English, please forgive any mistakes,_" and comprehends nothing beyond the brush of Taemin's mouth against his. 

Jongin looks up at the sound of the door shutting. He hadn't heard it open. Baekhyun rummages around his suitcase for a hairclip, pushing his hair back from his forehead in a ridiculous tuft of frizzy pink. "Jongin-ah," Baekhyun says sternly, turning to Jongin.

"You don't do that very well," Jongin bristles, because Baekhyun is about to say something _ leaderly _ but he doesn't have it down yet. They've spent the same seven years with Joonmyun's gentle cajoling and graceless jokes, and Baekhyun is still in denial that he can't be SuperM’s Joonmyun.

"Jongin-ah," Baekhyun tries again, bustling around his night routine. "I'm not apologizing, because I haven't fucked up for once, but I need you to go fix Taemin before the kids pick up on it. I can _ smell _ the unresolved sexual tension. So," Baekhyun continues, stuffing his toothbrush into his mouth, "put on your big boy Kai pants and go _ fix him_."

Jongin gapes as Baekhyun spits out toothpaste. "You—"

"Christ, Jongin-ah, you have my full blessings to commit a range of bendy, athletic sins. Keep it down, though, I'm pretty sure at least two of the kids are already exploring their sexualities next door."

"Wh...which two...?" Jongin asks faintly as Baekhyun knees Jongin off of his own bed, ushering him to the bedroom door.

"Leader privilege, Jongin-ah," Baekhyun breezes. "Listen carefully. Indulge your voyeuristic tendencies. Handle it better this time."

The door shuts behind Jongin with a final _click_, and he half-indulges Baekhyun, making his way quietly down the hall to Taemin's room. The other half, the advice to turn into Kai, a character made of oozing charisma and dripping sex, Jongin studiously ignores. Jongin may be anxious and terrified and he may wring his hands and fail to find words, but Jongin, not Kim Kai, is Taemin's best friend.

He hasn't figured out anything at all by the time he reaches Taemin's door. Only his abiding affection for Taemin and the pull behind his navel at the way Taemin sounded when he told Jongin about Baekhyun, the heat behind Taemin's fingertips on his thigh and the electricity he dragged with his lips across Jongin's.

Jongin takes a deep breath and taps cautious knuckles against Taemin's door. "Taeminnie," he stage-whispers. "Let me in."

Taemin's face appears around the door, scrubbed and moisturized, his hair pinned back neatly. "Come in, Jongin-ah," Taemin whispers. "I'm not mad at you." As Jongin steps in and the door swings shut, Taemin asks, "What do you need, Jonginnie?"

_ You, kissing me, _ Jongin's brain supplies helpfully. "You're always the most important," Jongin babbles. "To me, at least, I mean, do you remember when we took photos with Soojung and Soojung suggested we hold hands and the photographer made us arm-wrestle instead, I—" Jongin pauses to gasp in a breath.

"I remember that shoot," Taemin confirms, wistful.

"I want to kiss you," Jongin finishes lamely.

"You, or just not Baekhyun?" Taemin challenges, and Jongin carves his fingers back through his hair, deciding split-second to just...pivot.

"Can I kiss you?"

Taemin's face does this thing where it flashes through all five stages of grief at once, which looks more like a wince when not viewed in slow-motion. He nods, though, and Jongin cuts off whatever snappy remark Taemin has lined up (it starts with, _ "You really aren't that sexy—," _ and can go nowhere good) with his own lips, brief and almost-chaste.

It's Taemin's turn to gasp in a quick breath, turning his head away; Jongin has called his bluff. "Jonginnie," he starts, and Jongin knows the litany of protests: Baekhyun, the group, best friends, Jongin, how Jongin doesn't _ like _ boys. He might like _ Taemin_, though, and he definitely _ wants _ Taemin. He's spent the day coming to terms with this fact, and he's not historically great at resisting his wants.

"Taeminnie," Jongin sighs in reply, lifting a hand to Taemin’s sharp jaw. "Taemin, kiss me, too."

Taemin makes an exasperated little capitulating noise and says, "Jonginnie, I'm trusting you, here," but Jongin feels it against his mouth and can't be too indignant when Taemin is kissing him suddenly. Jongin, rather, gets with the program. He drops his hand from Taemin's jaw to his neck, resting it there as he closes his eyes, slides his lips slow and testing against Taemin's. 

It's not sexy until it _ is_, and that happens to be right when Jongin hears Taemin's quick inhale, just before Jongin's tongue swipes slow and testing across Taemin's lower lip. He isn't expecting Taemin's teeth scraping gently over his tongue, nipping at Jongin's own lips, and it startles a laugh out of Jongin, a nervous giggle from Taemin in return, and Jongin is all at once very sure that they can be the kind of best friends that ride each other's dicks, preferably soon and also often.

Taemin's giggle turns into a full-fledged laugh and Jongin realizes that some portion of those thoughts had been spoken aloud, and Taemin says, "Jonginnie, you wouldn't actually know what to do with a dick if you got one," and Jongin says, "I _ have _one, Taemin, don't say stupid things," and they're kissing again. 

Taemin's wiry arms wrap around Jongin and he leans down, closing the distance between them in a hungry kiss, like he's been starving for it. Jongin, emboldened by this overwhelmingly positive response to what was, admittedly, a gamble on his part, pushes himself against Taemin, begging Taemin without so many words to hold him tighter, kiss him harder. Taemin's teeth drag once more across Jongin's lower lip, the kiss deepening, and he feels his skin split against a sharp canine. Jongin wants to be closer, wants, _ wants_. He's half-hard against Taemin's abs, and Jongin feels Taemin's cock firm against his hip.

Jongin slides his hands down, explores the lines of Taemin's body, shoulders, chest, sharp hips all thinly muscled, pleased noises catching between their mouths. Jongin hasn't had sex with a man, with _ Taemin_, before, but Jongin has had enough sex to know where to put his hands. He reaches down, grabs Taemin's ass through loose cotton pants to hear the way Taemin grunts into the kiss. He lifts one hand to fist in Taemin's bleached-ash hair, dragging him down to Jongin's neck. Taemin's lips worry at the sensitive skin there and Jongin chokes on a groan. His breath comes loud and heavy, blood roaring in his ears and drowning out the near-silence of the house. Taemin drags a hand over Jongin's chest, chafing at his nipples under his thin t-shirt. Jongin ruts up against Taemin's thigh, and it's not enough, he wants to be closer, he wants to be naked about five minutes ago.

He wants to feel Taemin push him down and take what he needs. Jongin wants to pull, to give, to be subdued.

Taemin takes Jongin's jaw in a rough grip and kisses him again, messy this time and fast. Jongin rakes his freshly-manicured nails up Taemin's chest, under his shirt, and Taemin moans outright, guiding Jongin to the wall next to the door, shoving him against it, caging him between Taemin's arms. "We have to be quiet," Jongin summons the presence of mind to warn. Taemin scoffs something about Jongin and Baekhyun and hypocrisy and snatches one of Jongin's hands from his hips. He meets Jongin's eyes pointedly as he guides Jongin's hand to where he's hard, hot under his cotton PJ pants. Jongin pushes past self-consciousness and gropes him defiantly. A good, long grope, too, not at all timid, which results in Taemin's mouth dropping to Jongin's collarbone to muffle another moan. 

Jongin reaches past the elastic waistband of Taemin's pants, pushes them impatiently off of Taemin's hips, gripping his cock, aiming for just the wrong side of too tight. Taemin hisses in a breath and his cock jerks in Jongin's hand, leaking languidly onto the loose fabric.

"Oh, Jongin_nie_," Taemin breathes, his fingers careful and movements measured as they dip below Jongin's waistband, wrap around Jongin's aching cock. Taemin moves like he expects rejection, but Jongin has none to offer. Jongin's head falls back against the wall, his hands to his sides, and he lets Taemin stroke him off, listens to Taemin's reverent praise of how gorgeous Jongin looks, how beautiful he is when he comes undone like this. _ More beautiful now than when you're dancing, _ and _ Kim Kai has nothing on Jongin-ah, _ and _ I'm so lucky to have my Jonginnie. _

Heat floods Jongin's veins and he lifts heavy arms to clutch Taemin's waist and urge him _ closer _ ("Taeminie, pretty Taeminnie, want to feel you," Jongin whispers into the air between them), to wrap his hand around both of them ("Jonginnie, so forward, _ oh—_" ). Taemin joins his efforts and Jongin leads him to stroke them off together, juts his chin up so Taemin can dip his tongue into Jongin's parted lips. Taemin whines, long and drawn-out, when Jongin sucks on his tongue, and the _ sounds _ he makes, the grunts and moans and quiet pleas, push Jongin over the edge. He comes hot and sticky over Taemin's hand and dick, and Taemin buries his face in Jongin's neck, strokes himself faster, pants wetly against Jongin's skin, licks at the sweat there before he makes a high-pitched, helpless noise and comes.

If there was any plausible deniability left in this whole situation, it's torn to shreds as Jongin watches Taemin's brow knit in pleasure. He's utterly gone on wanting his best friend, and as soon as it's done, Jongin wants to watch Taemin's brows draw close and lips part helplessly all over again. He's standing there covered in sweat and come and he can't stop looking at Taemin. 

"Gross," Taemin declares after catching his breath, holding his dirtied hand out to the side. It breaks the tension between them and Jongin laughs, too loud in the quiet. 

"There's a bed _ right there_, Taeminnie," he ribs, and Taemin shushes him, staggering off in search of tissues and returning instead with wet wipes. " _ Taemin_," Jongin repeats, and Taemin yanks the packet of wipes out of Jongin's reach.

"Say please," Taemin demands haughtily, and then tosses the packet bodily at Jongin as Jongin lurches for him, semen-coated hand outstretched. It's normal again, Jongin muses gratefully as he wipes himself down. He can do nothing for the state of his pajama bottoms, and Taemin hunts down a spare pair that probably began as Jongin's in the first place. He's also seen them on Sehun, though, so Jongin doesn't know for sure. 

They end up in Taemin's blissfully-unsoiled bed by mutual agreement, tangling their limbs together and talking about schedules in the morning. "I can set an alarm," Taemin offers, nonchalant in the face of reality. Jongin cannot stay the night; they cannot explain that away in a believable way. Already, the fans will wonder why Jongin has changed clothes between lights-out and good-morning segments. He lifts his face to count Taemin's chins from this angle, Jongin lying half-on top of Taemin's chest. There are three.

"Don't want to wake up early," Jongin mutters, petulant, as Taemin sets the alarm regardless. "Don't suck Baekhyun's dick in our dressing room tomorrow," he adds, and Taemin lays a stinging smack on his ass, merciless.

"I'm not sucking yours, either," Taemin quips as he pulls the covers up, tucking himself closer to Jongin. "Only proper hookups in my single room from now on."

Jongin is flagging rapidly, the emotion of the day and the orgasm catching up to him. He dozes off to Taemin saying something about _a_ _proper lock on the door to get properly fucked_, contemplating breakfast and how many of the kids would be able to tell he'd put his hands down Lee Taemin's pants in the name of group dynamics. Decides he doesn't care, will be doing it again as soon as possible, and he misses Kyungsoo’s pancakes.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this, if you hated this, or if you had any feelings at all, I would love to hear about them in a comment~!


End file.
